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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #dystopian
I made so many promises when I arrived here. Now I'm not so sure. Now I'm worried. Now my mind is a traitor because my thoughts crawl out of bed every morning with darting eyes and sweating palms and nervous giggles that sit in my chest, build in my chest, threaten to burst through my chest, and the pressure is tightening and tightening and tightening Life around here isn't what I expected it to be. ↗
Returning my voice to a conversational level, I called back, “Nora, I’m not attempting to embarrass you or single you out. I know you’re capable. But stay behind Chas, okay? You die, you d i e permanently, and for various reasons that we’ve already gotten angsty about together, I don’t want that to happen.” “Okay, okay,” she sighed. “Angsty?” Chas asked. “Ooh! Later, details!” “Yes, later.” With that, I waved the team forward. ↗
What were you thinking when Trevor had that gun to your head?” “That I was going to die.” I said sounding too sarcastic to actually cover up that I was thinking something much different. “Well, I know that…but when you heard him start to pull the trigger your face changed. I watched it as I pulled the trigger on him.” He said his body still tense against mine. “I was thinking why the hell you hadn’t saved me yet.” “Sure you were. That’s not what I saw in your face.” He noted as his body relaxed. I turned to look at him again and our faces were barely an inch apart. “Then you know what I was thinking, so why are you asking? ↗
#in-between-seasons #post-apocalyptic #ya-dystopian #ya-romance #change
Great, so now we don’t just have to worry about my family.” I said looking up at the sky. “You said we didn’t have to worry about them.” “I hope to God not.” He shook his head. “You’re a strange duck.” “Quack.” I said rolling my eyes. ↗
#in-between-seasons #post-apocalyptic #ya-dystopian #ya-romance #family
They were like her rocks. Imperfect and surprising and maybe better in the long run than certainties. Chances, she thought, were life ↗
So if you're trying to play games with me, I should let you know up front that it's not going to work. "What?" I frown "what are you talking abou-" "You can't play hard to get, kid." He raises his eyebrow. "I can't even touch you. Takes 'hard to get' to a whole new level, if you know what I mean." "Oh my god," I mouth, eyes closed, shaking my head. "You are insane." He falls to his knees. "Insane for your sweet, sweet love!" "Kenji" I can't lift my eyes because I'm afraid to look around, but I'm desperate for him to stop talking. To put an entire room between us at all times. I know he's joking, but I might be the only one. "What?" he says, his voice booming around the room. "Does my love embarass you?" "Please-please get up-and lower your voice-" "Hell no." "Why not?" I'm pleading now. "Because if I lower my voice, I won't be able to hear myself speak. And that," He says, "Is my faviorite part." I can't even look at him. "Don't deny my Juliette I'm a lonely man." What is wrong with you?" "You're breaking my heart." His voice is even louder now, ↗
They wept for humanity, those two, not for themselves. They could not bear that this should be the end. Ere silence was completed their hearts were opened, and they knew what had been important on the earth. Man, the flower of all flesh, the noblest of all creatures visible, man who had once made god in his image, and had mirrored his strength on the constellations, beautiful naked man was dying, strangled in the garments that he had woven. Century after century had he toiled, and here was his reward. Truly the garment had seemed heavenly at first, shot with colours of culture, sewn with the threads of self-denial. And heavenly it had been so long as man could shed it at will and live by the essence that is his soul, and the essence, equally divine, that is his body. The sin against the body - it was for that they wept in chief; the centuries of wrong against the muscles and the nerves, and those five portals by which we can alone apprehend - glozing it over with talk of evolution, until the body was white pap, the home of ideas as colourless, last sloshy stirrings of a spirit that had grasped the stars. ↗
